


Blue jeans, white shirt

by goodbyebluesky



Series: Requiem for blue jeans [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, F/M, High School, Punk! Annabeth, Punk!Percy - Freeform, percabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbyebluesky/pseuds/goodbyebluesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a punk!Percy meets a punk!Annabeth for the first time, and she makes his eyes burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue jeans, white shirt

**Author's Note:**

> Lyric: “Blue jeans, white shirt, walked into the room you know I made your eyes burn.” 
> 
> Prompt: Punkabeth! AU

From the moment Annabeth Chase walks into the room, Percy Jackson is determined to make her his.

He’s sitting in his English Lit class, and his teacher announces her arrival. Percy finds he doesn’t really care, and instead of staring at the open door in anticipation like the rest of his moronic and headache inducing class, he scribbles black lines of writing into his notebook. He’s able to tune the rest out well enough, until he hears the guy next to him take in a sharp breath.

He looks up and everyone in the room fades away faster than his writing ever did. A smirk hitches the corners of his lips upwards and he props his hand under his chin. His eyes trail appreciatively over her, and he decides in that moment that he’s going to make her his.

Maybe it’s the way she walks; that she seems to tell everyone to fuck off just by the way her long legs move. Maybe it’s the way that her eyes meet his boldly; light grey boring into ocean green. Percy knows it’s all of these things.

She’s decked out with style very much like his; complete with ripped skinny jeans, white faded Metallica singlet and an ornate owl tattoo on her right shoulder blade.

Her blonde hair is short; dyed purple at the tips and cut in waves that seem too princess-like for her clothes, but the metal stud in her nostril and the piercing in her eyebrow catch the light when she turns and sees him. Her eyes flicker over his body and she smirks.

She walks past him and takes the only available seat diagonally behind him. He feels her stare prickle the back of his neck, and he runs a hand through his mohawk. The black hair has only been dyed blue at the tips, and Percy thinks vaguely that the sides are perhaps getting a bit too long.

He drops his hand to the desk and sees the guy beside him still staring; his mouth both comically and moronically wide-open. Percy shoves him. “Dude. What the fuck are you doing?” He hisses harshly, scrunching up his nose in a snarl.

The look of wonderment on the guy’s face turns into pure mortification and he hurriedly turns to the front of the room. Percy smirks in satisfaction and looks back down at his notebook; Annabeth Chase firmly rooted within his mind.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X

When Annabeth Chase walks into the English Lit class in her new school, she expects to see a bunch of sweatered-and-chino-wearing goody-two-shoes’. What she doesn’t expect is the spot of darkness in the centre of the room she later learns to be Percy Jackson; his near neon green eyes boring into hers, and his presence there stealing her attention away before she can choose any different.

Annabeth’s eyes boldly meet his, and there’s no way she can’t deny that she doesn’t like what she sees when her eyes flit downwards to take in the rest of him. She smirks, and knows she’s not the only one that feels this way when something ignites in Percy’s eyes and bleeds into the outside to cloud his pupils.

She spots an empty seat behind him and takes it; giving the rest of the class a shoulder-shrug and the thought that she honestly doesn’t actually care.

As the teacher begins to speak, Annabeth’s ears tune out and her eyes focus on the back of Percy’s neck. He’s wearing some sort of sheepskin body warmer, with the sleeves clearly torn off; because the fur spills out of the tears around his shoulders. His black skinny jeans are ripped like hers, but his biker boots look brand new.

His dark clothing only accentuates his heavily tanned arms, _because_ _seriously_ there’s no way a New Yorker can be _that tan,_ well-muscled and adorned with an assortment of tattoos and wristbands; the most prominent a aqua-coloured trident on the ball of his left shoulder.

He runs his hand through his mohawk and Annabeth’s eyes flick over to his neighbour, who’s still staring at her. She coolly meets his eyes and watches in amusement as Percy shoves him. Percy’s lips move and the guy takes on such a fearful expression that Annabeth wonders what he’s just said.

She smirks, and thinks about how a guy like Percy Jackson shouldn’t be much of a bad match against her.

She looks down at her notebook; suddenly very eager for the lesson to be over.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X

Percy approaches Annabeth in the hallway, once the bell has rung and all the student s have filed out. She’s leaning against a set of lockers, scrolling through something one her phone and looking very much out of place between the immaculate hallways.

She spots him walking over towards her and she smirks. “Have a habit of thumping new girls’ dating material, Jackson?” She taunts, raising her eyebrows. Percy smirks, “Only if that dating material isn’t myself.” He is brimming with confidence inside; his nerves buzzing at the nearness of her.

One step closer and he’s close enough to kiss her. Run his tongue over the stud in her chin. Pull at the loops in her ears with his teeth. Let his lips and hands explore every line of ink she is written with.

It’s as though Annabeth senses his direction of thought, because the corners of her lips quirk upwards. “Did you stalk me to find my name?” She asks, raising her eyebrows in silent challenge. “You never told me how you knew mine.” Percy retorts, meeting her challenge effortlessly.

Annabeth lowers her phone to stare him in the eye; it’s the reason she knows his name. She was not-so-stalking through the school’s registrar photo’s to find a name to match the face.

Annabeth grins. “Touché.” She says. Then, “Why are you here, Jackson?” Her voice isn’t unfriendly, and Percy’s stance straightens, as though he’s physically preparing for what he’ll say next.

Percy’s nerves are still buzzing, but with something alike to nervousness sparking to life in his veins. But he wants her; and that overpowers the before.

“I wanna show you the city, Chase.” He says, meeting Annabeth’s eyes with a cocky confidence he doesn’t exactly feel, searching for a spark of _something_ ; even though the grey betrays nothing.

“You ever been here before?” he asks.

“Been here all my life, actually.” She replies.

“Doesn’t matter.” Percy continues unperturbed, “I’ll show you places you’ve never been. I’ll show you the city you never knew.”

Annabeth smirks and stands a little straighter. She’s shorter than him and needs to tilt her head to look him in the eye.

“And what if I say no?” She asks, grinning slyly up at him. At this, Percy smirks and his gaze drops down to her lips. “I’ll convince you.” He says, and Annabeth is suddenly far too eager for him to show her his promise.

She feels the heat accompanying his words, and it wakes up something inside of her; something that makes her want to imprint herself with this boy standing in front of her, and to have the lines in his skin translate and flow into hers in something that never ends.

“Alright then.” She says, smirking when a sliver of relief and triumph light’s up Percy’s sparkling eyes.

“And once you’ve shown me the city?” She challenges, “What then?”

Percy smirks and takes the daring step forward, surprised by the weight of his own boldness pressing into his back. “That should be easy, Chase,” He says, taking her face in his large hands and running his thumb over the stud in her chin. He wonders vaguely why she hasn’t pushed him away yet.

“It’ll be this.”

His gaze drops down to her lips, and in the middle of the immaculate hallway; surrounded by goody two shoes’ and preppy morons alike, he kisses her.

Annabeth is delighted.


End file.
